Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.
Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless, and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay.
Chapter 44
Billa growled irritably as she paced around her office. Elrond's letter had arrived a few days previous, perfectly courteous and non-committal. He invited her to bring Lithir to Rivendell and to browse his library for a few weeks while he talked to Lithir about her future. Billa had been stung by the coldness of the letter, used to the warmth of his friendship, a friendship that he no longer remembered. In a fit of pique, she decided she'd bring Lori, Ori and any other dwarves she could convince to come, just to put Elrond's nose out of joint.
It was childish, and she knew it, but she was grumpy and lonely and cold and tired. Winter was a hard time for hobbits, who loved the sun and its warmth. It had been snowing for three days, and it was too cold to venture outside for long. So, Billa was stuck inside with only a snide Balin and a quiet Lithir for company. Lithir at least could walk above the snow, and so braved the outdoors often to visit Lori and Gimli. Billa envied her.
Billa had spent the days re-translating her favorite works into Sindarin and cooking, for there wasn't much else to do. She had read everything in her smial already in her two lifetimes, and without her friendly dwarves around to keep her busy she was falling into a malaise. She had paced the whole of her smial. It was thirteen hobbit-paces from one end of her office to the other. It was only nine Balin-paces, though. She had hidden and watched as he paced to get an accurate count. Using that fraction as a guide, she had calculated Balin-paces for the rest of the smial as well. Unfortunately, that had only taken up a few hours this morning, and now there was nothing left to do.
Restless, her hand fell to the ceremonial throwing knife that Thorin had given her. She glanced around, warily. Balin was in his room, and the door to the office was closed. No one would see. He only said not to use it on anything, she reasoned to herself. That means no throwing it at things, no using it to cut things, and no threatening people with it. I won't use it... I'll just... familiarise myself with it.
She held it so the blade sat in her hand, the pointy tip pinched between her fingers. She had seen Fili and Nori do things like this with their knives. She tossed it into the air and caught it by the hilt, rather clumsily. She tried again.
And again.
After thirty minutes, there were several tiny cuts on her fingers but she had made some progress. Now, though, she was tired and bleeding and hungry, and she had to stop before she threw the knife in frustration. So, she took a snack break, eating the last of the blackberry preserves (she had sent most of her stock with Thorin. The rest, she had taken to childishly hiding from Balin. If he didn't want to be a good guest, she only had to be an average host. No blackberry preserves for him!) and licking her sticky fingers clean.
Then she spent another half hour, this time throwing the knife with her left hand. Predictably, it didn't go well. She hissed as she pressed down on the bleeding digit, waiting for the copious blood-flow to slow. Next time, she promised herself, I'll practice with gloves.
Bombur winked at his wife who stared, disbelieving, at the tiny mountain of goods which stood apart from the Shire-food, clearly marked for THORIN SON OF THRAIN. There were four smaller piles next to it for Dwalin, Fili, Kili, and Dis, but Thorin's pile was larger than all of the individual piles combined.
"You should have seen him on the road here," he whispered in her ear, "Sighing for that lass like a love-sick calf."
Lorida gaped at him, trying to imagine such an impossible sight. "This..." she tried, pointing to the pile. "This is quite the courting gift!" she exclaimed. "Twenty barrels of precious blackberry preserves, Bombur, can you imagine? Twenty! And sixteen kegs of wine! What is he going to do with it all? And the knitting! Four scarves, two hats, three sets of gloves and seven pairs of the warmest, softest socks I've ever seen. Did you see the map she included, on such fine parchment, stretching from Erebor all the way out here to Ered Luin? And the books!-"
"Yes, my love," Bombur said happily, "And the books, and the writing set, and some seat-cushions as well. Isn't wonderful?"
"It's just so hard to believe," Lorida said, bewildered. "He's crossed miles and miles of the world and met with thousands of people. We'd all but given up that he'd ever find his lodestone. Are you really quite sure it isn't just some wild misunderstanding? These could be obeisance, for all we know, instead of a courting gift," she said anxiously.
Bombur grinned. "Now my love, let me tell you that it's quite for certain. I was passing by one of the Shire-pubs, on a night just before we left, and I saw, as clear as I see that pile now, Miss Billa dragging Thorin out of a pub and into the bushes, and when they came out a half hour later, for I stayed to keep watch, you know, didn't want them to be disturbed, their cheeks were as pink as can be, and their hair mussed besides. There's no doubting it. Our king has met his match, found his magnetite, fallen in love!"
Bombur danced gleefully on his toes for a moment before sweeping his wife into his arms.
"Isn't it wonderful, Lorida? Oh, I bless the day Billa Baggins came to Bree. I feel like the whole world's been turned upside down just for us, and the hard times are soon to be over. Oh, Lorida, there are brighter days ahead!" Bombur said, clutching his wife tightly.
Lorida, tears in her eyes, clutched him back.
When Bombur tendered his report to the Lady Dis, she made him verify it verbally, and then requested to see it in person. Bombur hid his smile behind his mustache as he watched Lady Dis ignore the large store of grain and supplies, heading straight for Thorin's little mountain.
"Bombur," she called after a moment, and Bombur swiftly stifled his smile as he came to her side.
"Yes, my lady?" he asked.
"See that these gifts are delivered to His Majesty's room," she said.
"And the smaller piles to their respective rooms as well?" he hedged.
"No," she said quickly, her lips turning up. "Deliver all the gifts, including Dwalin's, to Thorin's rooms. My brother is attending to court matters today, and will be all afternoon. See that it is done before he returns," she said sharply.
"To hear is to obey, Lady Dis," Bombur said with a bow. Dis swept regally out of the room, and Bombur grinned. Lady Dis agreed with him- these were definitely courting gifts!
When Thorin returned to his room, he had spent a long day in a hard chair, poring over reports and listening to complaints. Dis had done well in his absence, as she always did, but many preferred to hold their troubles until the King returned. While this was understandable, it meant that he was always swamped with problems the moment he returned. His shoulders ached from stooping over his desk, and he thought longingly of the soft upholstered chairs of Bag End. The hobbits had the right of it, he thought miserably. Comfort and food instead of halls of stone.
He put a hand over his face as he reached his rooms, massaging his temples and resting his eyes as he opened the door and entered. He promptly tripped, falling like a stone and swearing foully.
"What the-." He stopped, staring in wonder. His room was filled to the brim with things that looked... vaguely... familiar. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
"That's..." he trailed off. "That's Billa's wine. And her blackberries," he whispered, his heart suddenly pounding. The walls were hidden from view and barrel upon barrel, keg upon keg were stacked up high. His bed, too, was covered.
"Scarves... and gloves, and hats, and socks," he whispered, his hands rubbing them, marveling at the softness. "Oh, my sweet Billa."
He took in the map, and the books, and the set of fine quills, and he laughed happily.
Then, he saw the cushion covers, and he picked them up carefully, squeezing them in his hands. "Ahhhh," he sighed, imagining how it would feel to sit on them tomorrow. "Ah, my Billa, you sweet, sweet girl," he murmured to himself.
He saw the gifts for Fili and Kili and Dwalin and Dis, and grinned. He snatched up a set of his own socks, hat, scarf and gloves for Frerin, and went to deliver Billa's gifts.
"She's wonderful," he said later as he presented the soft, knit things to Frerin. "As sweet as sunshine in the spring and as fierce as a summer storm. I can't wait for you to meet her, Frerin," he said. Frerin rolled beside him, accompanying him back to Thorin's own room.
"She sounds lovely," Frerin said, a little placatingly. Then, Thorin opened the door, and Frerin saw the extend of Billa's generosity and devotion. He swallowed, eyes wide, visibly impressed.
"She sounds lovely," he said again, and this time, he meant it.
